Recently
I met with Dr. Robert DeCandido, PhD, known around Central Park
as "Birding Bob." In addition to his observations about
Mother Nature, he shared some keen insights into human nature.
"The first bird that turned me on to birding, growing up
in the Bronx, was a Cardinal in my yard. To see something red
was really nice.
"Later,
when I was playing stickball as a kid I saw a bird with a red
head bringing nesting material up under a metal awning on a
porch. It turned out to be a House Finch, which is a non-native
species, and it had color -- it wasn’t just a common Starling.
"When I got out of college I started hitchhiking around
the United States and I wanted to figure out a way to work in
one of the nice places I was visiting. So I started working
with Bald Eagles in Arizona, and Peregrine Falcons in California
on government funded projects, and I went back to school and
got my PhD in evolutionary biology and ecology.
"I
wound up back here in New York City, working as a park ranger,
and they couldn’t find anybody to lead the bird walks
in the park, and so they asked me to do it. That was probably
in the spring of ’94, and though I'm not a ranger anymore,
I’ve been doing them ever since.
"Our
primary group is on Sundays, and on a good day there might be
60 people who show up. It's a group of people that you get to
know: you hear about their lives, or if they got laid off or
how their book is coming along. We have a lot of talented people
with great life stories and we watch each other change and mature
over time.
"But
there are different bird groups and they each have different
auras about them.
"The
Museum Group, for example, is a good place for singles, for
people who want to meet one another. Our group, called The Bird
Walks, has older people who are married and have kids. So for
our group... yes, the birds are really pretty, and we look for
rare birds and it's always fun to add one to your list, but
if you took away the social part of the bird walks I don’t
know if that would be good for the birding community or for
yourself in the long-term.
"On
our walks we try to make it fun and it’s relaxing and
they learn a little bit, and get to move around. They start
off as neophytes and they think, 'Wow, if I could just identify
five birds in a year that would be amazing!' And then over time
we watch them get really good, and then they can take it from
there.
"Some
of the bird walks you see are very serious and they're really
focused on the birds. They're really quiet -- they don’t
say a word -- and they're very disciplined and I go, 'Wow, I'm
really impressed!' Me, I grew up in a big family in the Bronx,
where it was rumble tumble and making noise, so that isn't my
way.
"The
Spring is the best time to watch the birds because they're all
in their nice plumage and you can kind of be noisy and moving
around because the birds are really concentrating on feeding.
But then you have this thing between the groups: 'Oh, your group,
they don’t know what they're doing; they're too noisy'
and so on. So friction develops between groups.
"Take
the Screech Owl project. Screech owls bred here in Central Park
until the 1950s, and then they disappeared. Since they really
don’t migrate, once you lose screech owls from a place,
they are gone. So unless somebody comes and brings in some more,
you ain’t going to get them back. In the 1990s, when I
worked as a ranger for the Parks Department, we started a program
to bring screech owls in and it was met with almost universal
hatred: 'How could you bring in those poor little owls? It’s
all for publicity! They'll never make it in the city! You're
going to kill them!' It was crazy. It polarized the park. The
flip side now is they're still here after 10 years, though they're
hanging on by just a thread.
"Some
people are going after me now because I do owl walks at night
and I use a tape recording of a screech owl call to bring the
owls in and it’s like, 'Bob! you are disturbing the owls,
how could you do that?'
"They'll
come right up to me and yell in my face. I watch their religious
intensity and it’s scary, because here I am, making the
owls known to people -- which the owls need in order to survive
in the park, because the more people know about them, the more
the Central Park Conservancy will notice and want more owls.
"The people who are attacking me are out in the park themselves
seven nights a week watching the owls, so there's quite a disconnect:
they say what I do is bad, but what they do is fine, because
they care so much more about the owls than I do.
"You know, just because people like the environment, it
doesn't make them any different than any other group of people.
They think that they're holier than thou and living the Holy
Life, but they have the same foibles, the same fears, the same
mistakes as every other group. And the same anger toward other
people.
"The
environmental people are in some ways more conservative than
other groups I’ve been in, because it's a matter of being
Righteous: you have to be good to the environment, you have
to behave a certain way, and they have their Rights and their
Wrongs. That’s the scary part about it: when people feel
they hold the moral high ground, it doesn’t matter what
the facts are, they're going to justify what they do, because
they feel they're doing the right thing and that's all that
matters."
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